For a While
by Lia Jane
Summary: The death of a core member of the group causes a chain reaction to occur. Mistakes are made, revelations are discovered. What happens to a friendship when it's put to every test imaginable? Will it remain the same or evolve into something much different? Rick/Daryl. Slash.
1. Dust to Dust

**Let me begin my notes here by saying this story was born from my incredibly dirty mind. These two men are ridiculously sexy and I am going to have the time of my life playing with them. **

**With that out of the way, I do have to confess there will also be some angst…Ok so maybe a lot of angst. This is the zombie apocalypse after all. I intend to give them some good times as well. **

**This story will explore every facet of Rick and Daryl's friendship which then grows into something more. It will cover the good, the bad, and the ugly. There will be times that you guys hate Rick and times that you hate Daryl. The thing to remember is they're human. No matter what is going on around them, they're still human.**

**Thanks for taking this little journey with me. I sincerely hope you enjoy the ride. On with Chapter 1!**

***Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters portrayed in this story. That honor belongs to Mr. Kirkman and team. No copyright infringement is intended.***

**For a While**

**Chapter 1: Dust to Dust**

Rick stood and watched Daryl as he continued to dig the rectangular hole. He took note of the care the younger man was taking in making it just the right size, making the corners sharp so that they formed the perfect shape.

He'd offered to help many times only to have Daryl refuse in that Daryl way that made you feel like you were stupid for even asking. Rick found himself wishing there was something he could do to ease the man's pain. He knew how close the two of them were and that Daryl must've been in a bad place, but he also knew the hunter didn't like being singled out or pitied. He'd rather bludgeon a walker a couple of extra times than to sit and have a discussion about his feelings. Rick could understand and decided to give him some space.

"I'll just go get the body," Rick told Daryl, averting his eyes when Daryl's met his.

He grunted a response and nodded, getting back to his task and continuing to ignore the sting behind his eyes and the lump that was becoming painful in his throat.

Daryl was tired of digging graves. But this one did him in. While he knew that people were going to die – they would die even if there wasn't an ever-growing population of walkers trying to kill them – he wasn't prepared for this one; not this one.

He slammed the shovel into the earth repeatedly, breaking up as much dirt as he could. After he shoveled the loose dirt out of the hole, he tossed the shovel on to the ground above him and pulled himself out.

Using his shirt as a rag, he wiped the dirt and sweat from his face. Normally he wouldn't care but he wanted to look nice, as nice as he could anyway. He owed her that much at least.

Daryl looked out over the field, taking in the walkers that were moaning and pawing at the gate. All of a sudden he was overcome with such a strong sense of anger, he couldn't ignore it. Walking like a man on a mission, he made his way to the gate, pulling out his knife in the process.

When the blade sunk in to the first walker's head, he felt the hysteria rising in him. He knew he was going to lose it but he couldn't be bothered to care. He struck another walker, then another. He killed them for Sophia. He slaughtered them for Dale, Shane, Andrea, T-Dog, and Lori, for Merle and everyone else who lost their lives.

He killed them for Carol. Especially for her.

It was in that moment he broke down. He pulled his knife from the skull of the last walker and fell back on to his butt, pulling his knees in to his chest. Involuntarily Daryl began to rock back and forth as the tears fell. He brought shaky hands to his face and wound his dirty fingers into his hair. He could drown in his grief- of that much, he was sure. He'd lost too much; all of them had. It was a wonder that any of them were still able to find the strength to get up every day, knowing it could very well be their last.

Why hadn't he told Carol that she had saved him? Daryl never had anyone in his life like her. She never gave up on him no matter what he did to her. She'd loved him for who, and what, he was. And he just let her die without so much as a "Thank you." He hated himself for so much, but the fact that he'd never told her how he felt about her was the worst form of regret.

He gasped as another wave of sorrow hit him deep in his chest and resonated out through his limbs. It felt like his body was going to break apart slowly into a number of pieces.

It was the wrong moment for anyone to be around. Unfortunately, Rick wasn't aware of this fact.

"Daryl? Are you okay?" he asked, reaching out to place his hand on the man's shoulder.

Before he could fully register what was happening, Daryl had grabbed Rick's hand and twisted it into an unnatural and painful angle. He swiftly stood and turned Rick around, pinning the injured hand behind his back and shoving him hard so that he stumbled forward, almost falling.

"I don't need your pity," he growled, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Just leave me be!"

As much as Rick wanted to yell at his friend, he knew that would only make the situation worse. Daryl was lashing out and Rick had to let him do that. He could be glad that Daryl was at least reacting. He'd been worried when they found Carol's body lying on the ground, broken and bloody…

xXx

_The panic was setting in as the men made their way deeper into the lower level of the prison. Carol was discovered missing after the group had been attacked by a stray group of walkers that somehow got in to the cell block. It had been chaos until each of the dead was killed, making it easy for some people to get lost in the battle. Everyone returned, though, except for Carol. Immediately, Daryl and Rick set out to find her._

_They'd called Carol's name over and over only to receive no answer in return. Part of Rick knew they wouldn't find her alive, but he couldn't surrender to that thought. He wouldn't believe it until he saw it._

_He wasn't the first to see her. Daryl was. He quickly fired an arrow into the head of the walker still feeding on her. Rick hung back as he watched his friend retrieve the arrow and then calmly kneel down next to the crumpled form of Carol_. _There was no reaction, no tears. He simply closed her eyes with his hand and lifted her from the ground. There was a moment, only lasting a second or two, that Daryl pressed his forehead to hers. _

_Without a word, Daryl carried her back to the others with Rick following behind him. He said nothing as he laid her down on the floor of the cafeteria area where everyone was gathered. He also didn't stay to witness the reactions. Instead, he grabbed a shovel, adjusted his crossbow, and left the room, heading out to the grounds of the prison._

xXx

"I just wanted to tell you we're ready," Rick said quietly, holding his good hand up in surrender. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

Daryl looked past the older man to the group of people gathered around the hole he'd so carefully dug. He wanted to scream at them to get away. He wanted to tell them they'd never understand what they lost when she died. Above everything else, he wanted to kill some more walkers. At least if he was doing that, he would feel like he was doing something useful. Crying about something he'd never be able to change wasn't productive at all. He needed to remember that.

Daryl's face softened and he lowered his eyes to the ground, nodding once to acknowledge what Rick had said. He then bent down, picked up his crossbow, and followed Rick.

When they reached the others, Daryl refused to look at them. He focused on the wrapped form of his former friend resting in the ground. He briefly considered skipping the funeral altogether, but quickly decided against it. He'd never forgive himself if he did.

Rick cleared his throat and looked solemnly at each of the faces of the people he'd come to call friends.

"I wish I knew what to say," he began. "The truth is I've never been real good with words. Sometimes I say the wrong thing, or say nothing at all when I should. Carol could always be trusted to tell the truth and tell it like it is. She wasn't always that way. She found herself somewhere in the struggle and became an irreplaceable member of this group." Rick hung his head and fought through the emotions that were threatening to overtake him.

As he looked down into the final resting place of a very dear friend, he said, "Carol, I'm so sorry I let you down." The tears finally made their way down his face. "Forgive me," he whispered as he threw a handful of dirt into the hole, watching it cascade over the cloth covering Carol's body. He then turned and walked back towards the prison.

Daryl hung back and looked on as everyone said their goodbyes, each throwing their own handful of dirt into Carol's grave. He waited until they were all gone to say his own goodbye.

Taking a seat at the head of the burial place, Daryl searched his mind for what to say. There was so much that had gone unsaid between them and he wouldn't waste his breath recounting it all but he wanted her to know just one thing.

He leaned forward, sinking his hand into the mound of dirt waiting to be replaced and stood. He gazed down at what was left of the only person who ever truly accepted him, and he cried. He cried for what was and what would never be.

"Thank you," he breathed and released the earth from his hand.

Daryl stood there for another moment and then picked up the shovel. With each flick of the shovel, Carol's body disappeared more and more until there was nothing visible left.

The heartache remained and would for some time. If Daryl was being honest, he felt lost. It was one thing to lose his brother. That was a void that would never be replaced, but to lose Carol? He wasn't sure what to do anymore. He didn't believe that there was anyone else who would understand him the way she did, receive him the way she did.

He didn't know just how wrong he was.

**Poor Daryl…poor Carol. Personally, I hope she sticks around a good long while on the show but for this story, she had to die.**

**The next few chapters will deal with the fall out of Carol's death and not just from Daryl. Then we'll get into the change in Daryl and Rick's relationship. Stick with me! I hope you'll find it worth it. **

**Please let me know what you think. As my first Walking Dead story, I'm trying to stay as true to the characters as I can. There will be bad language, violence, and sexy times in the future – hence the reason for the M rating. **

**I hope you all like it so far. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Forget Me Not

**Well hello there! I'm so glad to see you guys coming back for the next chapter. I sincerely hope you aren't disappointed by it. I happen to think this little story is going to be a great ride! I'm thrilled to have you all joining me for it.**

**This chapter: Important decision and conversation. Things are beginning to head in the right direction. There's also a little bit about all of our favorite people just in case you were wondering what was up with them.**

**Anyway, here we go!**

***Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or locations. A big salute to Kirkman and all who are involved in the creative process. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter 2: Forget Me Not**

Time passed and life slowly began to return to normal. No one forgot the loss but they didn't want to dwell on it either. Death was a part of life and, though Carol's time had been cut short, her end was inevitable just like all of theirs. The only thing the group could do was go on living until that wasn't an option anymore.

So the kids went back to learning and training while the adults went back to the chores, the guard duties, and the supply runs.

Daryl was volunteering for a lot of guard duties, requesting the tower closest to the gate so he could keep a strong eye on the undead fuckers who were slowly gathering at the outer fence. They were still a relatively safe distance away but if they ever did become too great in numbers or broke through, he'd be ready for them.

All thoughts were consumed by strategy. He could almost say that he was looking forward to the day they would prove to be too much of a threat and he could let loose on them. In fact, he was itching to get a few shots off, and if it weren't for the sound drawing in more walkers, he would've done it already.

Every day when his shift was over he would go and visit Carol. He didn't talk to her – apart from the day they buried her – he would just sit quietly and, when he left, he'd place a Cherokee rose flower against the wooden cross used to mark her grave. Nodding once, he would head back towards the prison, once again steeling himself to keep the others from seeing his pain.

The routine continued like this for days that then turned into weeks. Rick would try to strike up a conversation with Daryl, but wouldn't get anything more than a word or two here and there or a grunt of acknowledgement.

Rick prided himself on being a patient man, but he worried about Daryl. He worried that the hunter would break under the pressure. The grief of losing both Merle and Carol had to be crushing him, but Daryl hid it well. Rick often wondered if Daryl cried in the guard tower; he hoped he did.

The worries were just a little on the selfish side. With so much of the original group gone, Daryl was the only person besides Glen and Michonne that he could count on for the heavy duty stuff. Maggie, Beth, and Hershel were getting stronger and stronger every day, but Glen wouldn't allow Maggie out of his sight after Carol's death, Hershel was moving around better but wouldn't be able to get out of a jam quickly or easily, and Beth had become the primary care-giver of Judith.

Then there was Carl. After he shot the kid from Woodbury when he was trying to surrender, Rick was concerned about Carl's state of mind. Losing his mother the way he did and then what he had to do after… Rick knew it would affect him. He just didn't realize in what way. Needless to say, Rick didn't want to put Carl in a situation to make a decision that would ultimately mean the difference between life and death.

The group from Woodbury was pulling their weight and proving to be a big help, but Rick still didn't know any of them very well. As a matter of fact, he couldn't remember anyone's names apart from Tyreese and Sasha. The trust between the two of them and Rick was mutually shaky. Mainly because when they'd first met, Rick was in the midst of a breakdown after losing his wife.

_Lori… _

The thought of her brought on a surge of emotion that he did well to contain. It was a constant struggle and he was resigned to believe it always would be.

The breakdown Rick suffered was the very reason he was so troubled about Daryl. There was no way Daryl was doing as well as he would have them believe. Rick knew, for several reasons, he had to get through to his friend. It was this conviction that brought Rick to the guard tower on a muggy summer night.

Part of him felt a little anxious. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of the field incident and this conversation was going to be tough. He'd be damned if it was going to be one-sided again though. Rick only hoped that Daryl could see it for what it was: A friend concerned about another friend. Then again, Rick wasn't sure that would make much of a difference anyway.

Rick knocked lightly on the door at the top of the stairs and waited for a response. He heard a shuffle and a thud followed by a "Who's there?"

"It's Rick," he called through the door. "Do you mind if I come in?"

The door opened, revealing an irritated looking Daryl Dixon.

"It's a free country," Daryl muttered as he turned and walked back to his post.

Rick chuckled at that remark.

"I guess it is, isn't it?" He didn't know why he'd found that comment so funny. Maybe it was exhaustion. Daryl didn't share in his amusement but it didn't stop Rick from launching into a full scale laughing fit.

While Rick continued his fit, Daryl stared at him, wondering just what the hell had gotten into him. It didn't escape Daryl's notice that people found him funny when he wasn't trying to be. Normally, he would've felt good about making Rick laugh, but he wasn't feeling very good about much of anything these days.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked Rick, sarcasm and irritation dripping from each and every word.

The tone in the younger man's voice finally broke Rick out of his stupor.

_Well this isn't off to a very good start, _Rick thought as he caught his breath, eyeing Daryl carefully.

"I just wanted to talk," Rick finally answered.

"Talk?" Daryl repeated. "'Bout what?"

"Well, I was hoping you would tell me." Rick looked at his friend and waited for the slew of obscenities that was sure to come flying out of his mouth any minute. But they never came. Instead, the hunter looked out over the field, squinting his eyes in that signature Daryl way.

"I got nothin' to say," he murmured, keeping his attention on the group of two or three walkers that were pulling at the front entry, shoving what little of their faces they could through an opening between the gates. Thankfully, the opening wasn't large enough for them to get through, but regardless, he made a mental note to do something about it in the morning.

"Daryl," Rick sighed. "Look, I get it. You're not the type of guy to share his feelings and I don't want you to think I'm trying to make you," – Rick placed his hand on Daryl's shoulder – "but I'm worried about you."

Shrugging Rick's hand off, he stood, turning on him.

"Me? Why the hell would you be worried about me?" He glared at Rick. "I'm fine. I've been doing what needs to be done." Daryl poked his finger into the former Sherriff's chest. "At least I ain't goin' around killing walkers with an axe and having pretend phone calls from my dead wife."

Rick expected that and he knew there would never be a way for him to make up for those things. He also didn't allow it to deter him from his reason for talking to Daryl.

"No, you're not but that doesn't mean you're doing any better than I was. You sit up here or in your cell day after day, not talking to anyone, barely eating, and when was the last time you slept more than two hours anyway?" He didn't wait for a response. "You can't live like this any more than I could."

Daryl scoffed and began to pace. All of a sudden the room was feeling smaller and smaller by the minute. If he didn't get out soon he was going to lose it.

"So you just thought you'd come up here and get me to open up, is that it?" He stopped long enough to grab his crossbow from the floor. "Well, I don't have time for this shit." He stalked past Rick and to the door.

"Daryl – "

"For the record, no one has been eating or sleeping enough," The hunter interrupted, refusing to look at his friend. "What makes me so special that you have to single me out?"

He didn't wait for an answer, opting to go ahead and make his exit. He assumed Rick would get the idea that he would be taking over the rest of Daryl's shift.

Feelings weren't really Daryl's thing, but even if they were, he didn't know how he'd ever put it into words. Merle's death had been different from Carol's. First of all, Daryl was the one to ultimately put him down even though The Governor was the reason Merle ended up the way he did. He felt pain and loss but not regret. Daryl knew that Merle would've done the same for him had it been Daryl that ended up that way. What he felt from Carol's death was much stronger. In addition to regret, he felt cheated. He'd been so close to a real connection with someone. Sure, he had Rick; someone who relied on him and trusted him with all he had. Daryl felt the same about Rick, but with Carol he felt like he could truly be his self and she wouldn't run away, no matter what she saw. He felt like he would've had a true friend in Carol, and the fact that it had been so close and then ripped away made him angry. It was an anger that went deep, seeming as if it was piercing his very soul. It wouldn't be fair of him to say he was only angry at God and the turn of events, though. No, he had plenty of it for himself and he couldn't tell which was greater.

Daryl hastily wiped the tears from his cheeks. Damn Rick for drudging up all of this! He'd been in a comfortable groove. Maybe he wasn't acting the same but at least he wasn't going insane. God, he wanted to. It would be so easy to let it all loose, but he didn't feel as if he was able to do that at the prison. The group was scared enough as it was, and a lot of them looked to Daryl like Rick did. As much as he didn't want to care whether they continued to have that faith in him or not, he did. The bottom line: Rick was right. He wasn't taking very good care of himself and he knew it would only be a matter of time before the breakdown occurred if he didn't do something.

In that moment, he made a choice, one that would prove to be just as wrong as it was right.

He needed some time to think, to be alone so that he could grieve without fear of letting anyone down.

He needed to leave the prison.

…**So? Please don't throw things at me. He's not gone for good obviously. I did warn you guys about the angst and all that, right? Well it's going to let up a bit soon and then return in full force. Daryl just has some shit to work out. Stick with him.**

**Thoughts are very much appreciated and loved, so leave me a line or two! Thank you all for reading. Until next time…**


	3. Finding North

**Hi everyone! So sorry this is so late, but I hope you'll find it worth the wait. It gave me some trouble, but I'm happy with the finished product.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing The Walking Dead related. No copyright infringement is EVER intended.**

Daryl sat in front of the fire, poking at it with a long and knotty stick to keep the flames going. He sighed deeply and scooted back against the wall of the small cabin he was spending the night in. He'd been lucky to have come across it, having had absolutely no idea what he'd be doing for shelter on this little trip.

It wasn't like Daryl not to plan things a little better than this, but he wasn't himself lately. That was a big part of the reason he had decided to leave in the first place.

Sighing again, he pulled a can of beans from his pack and detached his knife from his belt. With one swift stab to the top of the can, he punctured the lid and began to saw along the edges. Grabbing the small pot he'd borrowed from his bag, he poured the beans in it and placed it over the fire. He wondered idly if they would need this pot while he was gone. He felt a pang of guilt at the thought.

He hadn't taken much from the prison, he didn't plan to be gone for very long, but it had still been a bitch to carry alone. It was even more annoying when he had to throw everything down to take out a walker and then pick the shit back up, only to have to drop it all again just a little ways further to kill yet another of the undead bastards. Luckily, he'd only run into a few of them, but it'd been an inconvenience nonetheless. He'd scolded himself, remembering a time not too long ago that he'd been on his own. As much as he hated to admit it, he'd come to depend on people and they'd come to depend on him. The thought made him as happy as it did nervous. Ultimately, it was the fact that he knew they depended on certain things that kept him from taking a vehicle.

Daryl's plan included a few days to a week-long hunting trip. He figured he'd at least be able to bring the group a nice batch of squirrels; maybe a possum or two. He hadn't really seen game any larger than that for quite some time. Regardless, he was going to give it one hell of an effort and hopefully work through some of his issues at the same time. The distance was going to do him good.

Deciding that his beans were probably warm enough, he retrieved the pan, cursing out loud when he accidentally touched the bottom and burned himself. He fished the plastic spoon from his bag and began to eat. After only a few bites, he couldn't help but notice the beans had an odd flavor to them. He chewed once, then twice more before spitting them out all over the ground.

He looked at the can, then glanced into the bag that was full of cans of those very same beans and tossed the empty can on to the floor.

If Carol had been there she would've laughed at him and made some remark about how he should've checked the cans before bringing them. She was always the practical one, even when Daryl didn't want to hear it.

"_I told you I got it," Daryl huffed, jerking the heavy bag away from Carol and over his shoulder. The handle on the bag was already digging into his fingers uncomfortably and he still had to make it about a mile to the car, but he was determined to show he could do it; that he didn't need her help._

"_Daryl, you're as stubborn as a mule," Carol grumbled, reaching for the bag again only to get a death glare from the man. "Would you just listen to me?"_

_He didn't want to but he also didn't want to piss Carol off, so he lowered the bag to the ground and looked at her expectantly._

_She smiled and patted him on the back, a gesture Daryl used to shy away from, but now it seemed normal to him – at least when she was the one doing the patting._

"_There's a buggy over there," she said, pointing to the other side of the building they'd just ransacked for supplies. "We can put whatever will fit in that and then carry the rest. It'll be so much faster to do it that way."_

"_And so much louder," Daryl added, earning him a sigh from his friend. "Well, do you wanna attract any walkers that might be nearby?"_

"_I guess not, but if we were fast enough, they'd never get to us in time," she insisted. "But if they did, you could hold them off while I finish loading everything up."_

_Daryl was getting ready to object when Carol added, "There's no way we're getting all of this to the car in one trip without the buggy, Daryl. Those are just the facts."_

_He raised his eyebrows at the sassy tone. She'd become so much more outspoken since her husband died. He'd never tell her, but he liked it. _

"_Alright," he conceded. "I'll go get the buggy. You holler if you see anything." _

_Carol smiled again and nodded, watching him as he jogged across the parking lot to retrieve the shopping cart._

Daryl smiled a little at the memory. Carol had been right, of course. They'd made it to the car in one trip with all of the stuff and when Daryl's fears became realized, he was able to take care of the small group of walkers while Carol finished the task. She'd made sure to boast, teasing Daryl relentlessly on the way back to the prison. It was things like that, the fact that she was able to make him forget for a little while about the world being in the shitter, that he was going to miss the most.

xXx

"It looks like he took a few things from the kitchen and cleaned out his cell." Glenn was telling Rick, but Rick was too busy searching his mind for the tracking tips Daryl had given him on one of their many hunting trips.

_Look for scuff marks or disturbances in the ground to determine which way they went…_

"Where do you think he could've gone?" Maggie asked, cocking her head to one side to try and catch Rick's eye.

_Stop often and scan the area for signs as to which way they were heading…_

"Why would he just leave like that?" Glenn added, his voice taking on a harder edge. He was beginning to get pissed. He couldn't understand why Daryl would do something like this. Of course he couldn't. It wasn't like he'd lost Maggie. Even though Carol and Daryl's relationship had been a little different than Maggie and Glenn's, it didn't mean Daryl felt the loss any less.

_When all signs are lost, go back to the last area you were certain of…_

"Rick!" Maggie yelled, snapping her fingers in front of the former sheriff's face. "Are you even listening?"

Rick blinked his eyes repeatedly in an attempt to bring himself back to the people who were questioning him, depending on him. He shook his head and with a lift of his eyebrows, he finally looked at Maggie and Glenn.

"I don't know where he could've gone, but I think you already know the answer to the why." He looked pointedly at Glenn, silently reprimanding him for getting angry with Daryl.

Glenn's shoulders slumped and he looked away. He felt bad for the way he'd reacted, but he couldn't help the panic that was rising in his chest. Rick was barely back as an authoritative figure, having finally stopped seeing visions of Lori, and Glenn was afraid of what would happen if Rick had a relapse now that Daryl was gone.

"So, what do we do?" Glenn asked his friend. Maggie and Glenn looked at Rick expectantly, waiting for their leader to, well, lead them.

Rick knew what he wanted to do, but he didn't know if he could. He thought about it for another second or two before he made his decision.

"I'm going to look for him," he said, his eyes and jaw set in that way that indicated there was going to be no changing his mind. He could leave the prison in the capable hands of Glenn, Michonne, Tyreese, and Sasha while he was gone. He would bring Daryl back or die trying.

Rick made his exit before any of them could protest, making his way to his own cell and packing a few things for the journey. He'd just finished rolling up some sheets and a blanket when Carl entered the cell looking just as pissed off as he always did these days.

"You're leaving?" he asked as he glared at his father, a man he used to think did absolutely no wrong. That opinion was lost after the way Rick reacted to Lori's death. Carl needed his father during that time, but Rick wasn't there, not really.

"Carl, I have to," Rick insisted. "Daryl would do the same for any of us and you know it." He picked up the bag from the floor and moved towards Carl, his hand outstretched to rest on the boy's shoulder, but Carl jerked backwards, narrowing his eyes at the man.

"Are you taking anyone with you?" he demanded, never missing a beat.

Rick sighed and looked out over the cell block they'd come to call home. He crouched down, resting his hands on his knees and lifting his head slightly to look at his son. God, how he wished that Carl could go back to being just a kid. He'd give anything to see him smile the way he had before the world went to shit. He'd even settle for the days when Sophia was alive, because even though there had been the threat of walkers, he was still able to hold on to a little of his childhood. Once Sophia was lost, Carl began to change, and when Lori died and Carl had to… Well, he was completely transformed. Though he was still a child physically, his state of mind wasn't…not anymore.

"I think its best that I go alone." Rick locked eyes with Carl, willing him to understand. He hoped that Carl would see the regret, pain, and determination in his eyes so that, in case he didn't make it back, the boy would know just how much he wished he could've changed things. "Carl, you listen to the others while I'm gone," he said and paused, gathering the courage to articulate the words that came next. "Be strong, now. Promise me you'll take care of your sister if I don't…" He couldn't finish those last words. He didn't want to think about never seeing his children again or what might happen to them if he didn't return.

Carl's face softened a little bit and he nodded.

"Just…be careful," he muttered before turning abruptly and stalking out of the cell. Rick watched him make his way back down the stairs and towards the cafeteria.

"I love you, too, Carl," he whispered, keeping his eyes on his son until he wasn't visible anymore.

After a quick meeting with the group informing them of his plan and a goodbye to Judith, Rick left the prison in search of his friend.

xXx

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl shouted as he watched the walker chew and gnaw at the stomach of the deer he'd been tracking. It was the first fucking deer he'd seen since that day at the first camp when Merle went missing. He'd been so excited even though he wasn't sure how he'd get the damn thing back to the prison, but that hadn't mattered. It was a deer! But no, that ugly fucking bastard just had to arrive and soil the one good thing he had going for him on his mind-clearing hunting trip.

He stared into the milky white eyes of the walker who'd taken notice of him when he'd yelled at it, watching as the thing continued to chew.

"What the fuck are you looking at, you stupid piece of shit," Daryl grumbled as he loaded an arrow into his crossbow, continuing to watch out of the corner of his eye as it climbed to its feet, a deep throaty growl bubbling from its chest.

_Come on, you bastard, _he thought while aiming the arrow at the walker's head. When the thing stumbled towards him, he shot, sinking the arrow perfectly in the thing's forehead.

As soon as the walker dropped to the ground, Daryl made his way over to it, pulling the arrow from its head and wiping the blood on his holey dark green pants.

He was inspecting the damage the walker had done to the deer when he heard it: growls and moans. His stomach dropped as he registered the fact that it sounded like there were a lot more than just a few.

Daryl whirled around. The first thing he noticed was a smaller group made up of about 4 or 5 coming his way from the right. Looking to his left, he saw another group of walkers; this one a little larger at about 7 or so. There were a few stragglers coming up the middle.

He immediately reloaded his crossbow, taking out the one in the middle that was the closest to him. He backed up as he retrieved another arrow, loading it and quickly firing off to the left, taking out a skanky looking undead bitch. He fired another few shots, dropping 2 more before he realized he'd run out of arrows.

"Shit," he muttered as he grabbed his knife, backing up further. They continued to advance on him, their eyes wild with hunger and their teeth chomping harder and harder the closer they got to Daryl.

He knew he probably should run, but he didn't want to. He needed this, needed to kill them. There was no way he'd come out of this alive, but he'd take out as many as he could and that would be good enough for him.

_Fuck it, _he thought and charged forward. Grabbing one of the walkers by the hair, he jerked its head back and shoved the knife deep into its temple. He removed his knife and swung it, catching another walker by its neck. He was cutting them down like they were nothing, each one easing a little more of the ache that resided inside him. Maybe he _could _do this.

After shoving a walker to the ground and plunging his knife into the thing's forehead, he looked up, catching sight of the arrows that were still sticking out of the walkers he'd killed before. If he could reach them, he'd have a chance to make it out of this clearing alive.

Daryl got up and started towards them. He'd only made it a few feet when one of the undead he thought he'd taken care of, grabbed his foot and he went crashing to the ground.

He attempted to move backwards away from the thing that was crawling closer to him and the ones still on their feet, heading his way. Gripping his knife tighter, the hunter prepared to defend himself until his last breath. He kicked his feet wildly but it was doing no good. Just as the walker reached eye-level with Daryl, a shot sounded across the clearing and Daryl's face was sprayed with blood as the walker slumped down on top of him.

A few more shots rang out until there was no more growling or moaning. They were dead. They were all dead and Daryl was still alive.

The heavy body of the dead walker was lifted from Daryl's body and he was finally able to see who'd come along at the perfect time and saved his life.

He took in the sight of a slightly graying beard, full pink lips, and piercing blue eyes.

"Rick?"

The former sheriff smiled down at his friend as he offered Daryl his hand, pulling him to his feet.

With a clap to Daryl's back and a quick once-over, Rick said, "Looked like you could use some help."

**Yay for Rick! I kind of like Hero Rick. What do you guy think? Thanks again for reading, my lovelies. See you all next time!**


End file.
